


Still

by flyiing_giraffe



Category: One Piece
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Wano Arc (One Piece)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyiing_giraffe/pseuds/flyiing_giraffe
Summary: Kaido is defeated, Wano is at peace. In the aftermath, things which were broken may be repaired.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 7
Kudos: 126





	Still

Sanji trudges through the snow towards the dilapidated house where the Strawhat crew is sleeping off their recent battle. The trees sag under the weight of their slowly gathering burdens, the breath comes from Sanji’s mouth in clouds, and he shivers and wishes for Kin’emon’s power of providing situationally appropriate clothing.

It is, predictably, several hours after everyone else has gone to bed. Sanji’s exhausted, but there had been hungry mouths to feed and cleaning to be done, duties which naturally fell to him. The only light remaining is from the lanterns so that he can find his way home. 

The snow and hour beget a singular stillness. A silence, yes, uninterrupted but for the crunching of snow beneath Sanji’s feet, but something more, as well; as though all the world sleeps, delivered to Morpheus’ hands by the snow.

To his recollection, Sanji has never had the misfortune of freezing to death, but he’s heard it includes the unbearable urge to lie down where one is and not get up again. He hurries toward the house.

The snoring as he approaches is deafening-- they can probably hear it in the capital. He pauses on the doorstep to indulge in one final smoke before bed, then cocks his head to the side, listening again.

That’s definitely Luffy. And Franky, Usopp, Brook. Someone he isn’t quite familiar with (probably Jinbe). But no Marimo. 

It’s a peculiar thing to notice, but Zoro snores very distinctly from the rest of the Strawhats. Sanji has the terrible misfortune of sleeping next to him practically every night, so he knows. He contemplates the likelihood that Zoro somehow can’t sleep and then sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

They haven’t seen each other in three days. 

When he’d first arrived at Wano with the rest of the crew, everything was fine. He and Zoro had fallen back into their old routines instantly, bickering and sparring and ultimately, inevitably, coming together. 

But then he’d had to go and open his stupid fucking mouth and ruin everything. 

On the first night of the post-battle celebrations, Sanji had gotten way too drunk. And then he’d found Zoro, plonked his ass down next to him by the fire, and proceeded to tell him about Whole Cake Island in excruciating detail.

Had Zoro needed to know that Sanji had nearly gotten married? No. That he’d done his level best to break Luffy’s skull? Debatable. Had Sanji told him? Absolutely.

Sanji chalks the whole fiasco up to misplaced guilt. It’s one thing to know that he’d been under duress and would never have agreed to marry Pudding-chwan given normal circumstances; it is another entirely not to feel bad about it. Not to feel as though he owes Zoro an explanation or an apology or  _ something _ . Since they are… whatever they are. Together. Whatever.

After he’d blurted the whole thing out, he sat there, clutching his wine bottle in anxious silence, desperately waiting for Zoro to say  _ anything _ . And instead of yelling at him, or fighting with him, or telling him to pack up and leave the crew forever, the bastard just got up and  _ left!  _ Without a fucking word! What the  _ fuck! _

Sanji had finished his bottle of wine. Stared blankly into the fire for thirty solid minutes. Then stood, brushed the sand off his clothes, and cooked for three days straight. It was the one thing he could do that would guarantee he didn’t have to think about any of it; he needed all his concentration to cook the food his crew and the people of Wano deserved. But now the party is over, the grateful inhabitants of Wano have returned to their homes to sleep off the festivities, and Sanji is freezing his ass off trying to make this fucking cigarette last as long as possible so that maybe that stupid Marimo will pass the fuck out like he  _ should. _

Maybe he can just stay out here and say he was keeping watch. Most of them probably wouldn’t buy it, but they aren’t dumb enough to say anything. He huffs out a cloud of smoke, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to preserve body heat. 

The door to the shack opens behind him. There’s the sound of steps, muffled by the snow, and then Chopper is at his side. The little reindeer puts a hoof up to his mouth, stifling a yawn, then gently tugs at Sanji’s kimono.

“Sanji, come inside. I just finished treating everyone’s injuries; I’m not dealing with hypothermia, too.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sanji reassures, smiling softly, “go to sleep.”

Chopper glares at him, which probably doesn’t have the desired effect since it is, frankly, adorable,

“Doctor’s orders! Zoro’s refusing to sleep until you come in, and if he’s awake while I’m not, he’s definitely gonna reopen his wounds!”

So, he was right.

“Let him,” Sanji says sourly, crushing the cigarette butt under his heel.

Chopper grabs his hand and looks up at him with big, wobbly eyes. He’s exhausted-- he’s been working all this time, too, trying to keep everyone alive. Sanji immediately feels like a piece of shit.

“Sanji, please, you both need to rest. I’m really worried about you guys. Please come inside?”

“Alright,” Sanji agrees hastily this time, scooping Chopper up and retreating into the house, “but you shouldn’t be-- worried, I mean. We have the best doctor in the world on our crew.”

“That doesn’t make me happy at all, you bastard~!” Chopper giggles, jumping from Sanji’s arms so he can do that cute wiggling thing. He turns stern again after a moment, though, putting his hooves on his hips.

“Promise you’ll go to bed! You’re gonna get sick if you stay up any longer.”

“I promise,” Sanji crouches down to gently fix Chopper’s hat, which is askew, “You gotta go to bed, too, though. Can’t get better without our doctor, can we?”

“Knowing you monsters, you’d manage it somehow. I still don’t know how any of you stayed alive before I joined the crew.” Chopper yawns again, waving as he turns away, “Goodnight, Sanji. Wake me if you need help, okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

Sanji watches Chopper run over to join the Luffy-Franky-Usopp-Brook-Jinbe pile, then turns around to find Zoro sitting up against the wall on the other side of the room, staring at him. 

He raises a hand to run through his hair, then, catching himself, shoves both of them in his pockets. Well, there’s no point putting it off, he supposes. He walks up to Zoro, stopping about a foot in front of him and meeting his gaze. 

“Marimo.”

“Curly-brow.”

Sanji scowls at him, but Zoro doesn’t react.

“You got something you wanna say to me?” He asks, impatient. If Zoro wants to fight or break off their arrangement or whatever, Sanji wishes he’d just do it and let them both get some fucking sleep.

“Not really.”

Seriously? After not speaking to him for three fucking days, this moron doesn’t have a single goddamn word to say to him about any of it?

Sanji opens his mouth to start yelling, a volley of insults on his tongue, but Zoro preempts him.

“C’mere, Cook,” he says, gesturing to his left side. Sanji pauses, considers storming off, but ultimately sits down with a huff. Zoro pulls him closer, wrapping part of his haori over Sanji’s shoulder. He’s about to protest, but then Zoro rests his chin on top of Sanji’s head, and he calms. They’re quiet for a moment. Still.

“I’m not good at talking,” Zoro says, eventually.

“Oh, really? And here I thought you were a fucking orator.”

“Shut up. I just mean… I don’t really know what to say to you about all that stuff you told me.”

Sanji goes quiet, anxiety paralyzing his tongue. He turns so that he can put his ear against Zoro’s chest; his heart beats its steady, unbreakable rhythm. Sanji would never admit it, but it’s one of his favorite sounds in the world.

“I was mad at first, but I kinda think I get why you acted like that. I know you were trying to keep everyone safe. I think you were being stupid, but I get it.” 

He shifts, tilting Sanji’s face with gentle fingers until they’re looking at one another. Zoro’s eye burns and Sanji’s heart throws itself against the cage of his ribs like a desperate animal. 

“I gotta question for you.”

“What, then,” he asks, barely audible. It seems to him as though he’s dreaming, the world unreal around him. Zoro’s heart keeps its pace, a jut of rock upon a storm-rent sea.

“Do you still want… us? Me, I mean? ‘Cu--”

“Yes,” Sanji cuts him off, his own heart finally slowing its anxious race, his lungs allowing him breath once again, “You moron.  _ Yes _ . Why the fuck would I tell you all that if I didn’t?”

Zoro scowls at him.

“How should I know what you’re thinking, Cook? I thought it was your way of breaking up with me or something.”

“We’re not dating,” Sanji says, putting his head back down and curling closer to Zoro. He smells like blood and sweat, still. Sanji will have to make him shower.

“Tch. Well, whatever. You know what I mean.”

Silence descends again. Zoro pulls him closer until Sanji’s practically sitting on him.

“If you’re not mad,” Sanji says into Zoro’s chest, “why didn’t you come back?”

Zoro shrugs.

“Didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet. Needed time.”

Sanji punches him in the stomach.

“Next time,  _ say so _ , idiot.”

Zoro grunts, annoyed, although Sanji doubts it hurt at all.

“Sorry,” he mutters, putting Sanji closer, still, wrapping him in his arms.

Sanji sighs and does the same. The fire crackles in its pit in the middle of the room; their crewmates sleep peacefully around them; snow continues to fall. They sink down until they’re horizontal, still tangled together. Time slows. Sanji closes his eyes, and the world turns into Zoro’s heartbeat, his breath, his hands, his lips.  _ Zoro _ .

“Missed you, Cook,” Zoro whispers against his forehead. Sanji nods, swallowing back a sudden pressure in his throat.

“Zoro, I always wanted--” he starts but has to stop to take a ragged breath. 

“I always wanted to come home. Even when I didn’t think I could. Even--”

“Ssshhh,” Zoro hushes, “I know, Sanji. It’s okay.”

He nods again, eyes stinging. Zoro holds him tighter. 

They never have the right words for each other. They speak, and sparks turn to fire, and that is much of what they are together, but there are times when the endless exchange of blows isn’t right, isn’t enough. Sometimes, you have to surrender to someone else, to sit, defenseless and bare, before them. They’ve never been good at it, and they probably never will be. Their private language is wordless, soundless.

Zoro kisses Sanji’s head, runs gentle fingers through his hair. Sanji clutches him so tightly someone else would have broken and stifles his tears in Zoro’s chest.

They’re not because of what happened-- or, not entirely. It’s still too near for Sanji to be okay, but this is… he’s crying because he gets to have this. He got to come  _ home _ . His crew, his family, aren’t some beautiful out-of-reach fantasy. They’re  _ real _ . They’re  _ here _ , and they  _ want him _ ; they want him so much they fought a Yonkō to get him back. He never thought he would find people like them, who would love him this much; he never thought he’d be good enough to deserve that. But they’re still here. And he is more grateful than he could ever express. 

They don’t say anything else. They don’t have to. Zoro’s hands, his heartbeat, his body tell Sanji  _ I love you, it’s okay. You’re forgiven. _ And Sanji, in return, says,  _ thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m so sorry. I love you.  _ They fall asleep wrapped up together, the embers of the fire smoldering away, as silent and still as the snow-covered land that cradles them.


End file.
